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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001038">Fresh Prints</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireHeartAW/pseuds/FireHeartAW'>FireHeartAW</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Boys In Love, Fluff, Forensic Scientist Kuroo, M/M, Meet-Cute, Writer akaashi, kuroo bill nye era, kuroo is really bad at chemistry jokes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:48:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireHeartAW/pseuds/FireHeartAW</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kuroo's shower stops working the morning of an interview, and he has to ask the cute guy next door for help.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Seems like your investigative skills need some work, Kuroo,” he smirks, but his eyes soften and the bright morning exhales a stream of light against the man’s shoulders – silhouetting this apparently sassy man with an ethereal glow. </p>
  <p>“Oh wow, alright then. So, mystery man who saved my ass this morning by letting me use your shower, may I have the honor of knowing your name?” Kuroo laughs, hands resting on his hips to match the attitude. </p>
  <p>“No.” The man laughs, hard, the sound (one Kuroo would rather the bricks not soak up) falling in the air between them.</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fresh Prints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenyLove/gifts">GreenyLove</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Greeny! Thank you so much for entering my giveaway and giving me such a fun pairing to write!! I had a blast writing it, and I hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure you don’t need me to carry you up the stairs?” the familiar booming voice calls behind him, bouncing off the old walls with enthusiasm. </p>
<p>“No, Bokuto, you’ve helped me enough and I’m not that out of shape,” Kuroo responds with a heavy exhale, his words snipped by deep inhales into his lungs that seem to mock his statement. </p>
<p>“Mhmm, sure. Why the hell’d you pick this building anyways?” his friend asks, standing next to him, somehow taller as if the full day’s worth of moving stuff into Kuroo’s new apartment didn’t also weigh heavy on his bones. </p>
<p>“Thought it looked cool,” Kuroo replies with a shrug of his shoulders as Bokuto’s giant hand smacks his back with laughs that radiate through his fingertips. </p>
<p>Reaching the top of the stairs they’re greeted by golden hour light that seeps through the old window at the end of the hallway, illuminating the path towards his new home that rests idly behind an old metal door. </p>
<p>The only other apartment on this floor is the one right across the hall, a matching door with the number 5 hanging lopsided on its metal frame. </p>
<p>“I wonder what your neighbor’s like!!” Bokuto shouts, and lucky for Kuroo the brick walls that surround them seem to soak in the sound. He gives himself a mental pat on the back – not only did he choose a place that seemed comfortable with that worn kind of appearance, but he also chose a place where his best friend wouldn’t drive his neighbors absolutely nuts whenever he comes over. </p>
<p>While Bokuto seems to appreciate every brick with his fingertips as they near the end of the hallway, Kuroo turns the key into his new place – hoping that with tomorrow’s job interview the click of the key will become a permanent sound in his mind, one that’s comforting after a long day of work. The remaining sunlight gleams, highlighting cardboard boxes and tables full of mismatched items, the day falling behind the horizon with its short welcome that still vibrates in his veins with the nerves he’s tried and failed to ignore. </p>
<p>He hears the heavy door close behind him, followed by the scrape of a random item being pulled off the kitchen table they’d managed to assemble earlier. </p>
<p>“You’ll get the job, Kuroo. You’ve been a nerd since high school,” Bokuto claims, as if he could sense that the tension in Kuroo’s shoulders wasn’t from lifting boxes up multiple flights of stairs all day. </p>
<p>“Yeah, not all of us could be jocks like you, bird brain,” Kuroo laughs, turning to find his friend pouting with a mug in his hand. </p>
<p>“At least I didn’t have aspirations to be Bill Nye the Science Guy when I was younger, unlike someone I know,” Bokuto responds in kind, his laughter now fully echoing off of the metal foundation holding up his living room, as if the joy could be reverberated back into the room. </p>
<p>Bokuto pushes the mug into Kuroo’s chest with his eyes closed as laughter wracks his body, and Kuroo grabs it from his hands, wary to not break anything on his first day in the new place. Isn’t that bad luck or something? </p>
<p>But the sound of a metal door closing beyond the threshold of his brick walls stops their laughter, and with what could probably be described as a squawk, Bokuto runs to peer through the peephole. </p>
<p>“Oh?” </p>
<p>“Oh what, Bo?” Kuroo questions, expecting some kind of explanation for his friend’s sudden silence. </p>
<p>“Are you ready to do some of your forensic stuff? Work on your chemistry with the cute guy across the hall?” Bokuto turns, raising his eyebrows suggestively . </p>
<p>“Okay, first of all, that pun,” and honestly Kuroo’s not even certain Bokuto meant it as a pun, “was horrible. Second, last time I checked I just moved in literally today and the man’s probably already annoyed with me because of your hooting and hollering.”</p>
<p>Bokuto just blinks at him, face resorting to the one he gets when he’s about to pout. </p>
<p>“Ugh, Bokuto, no, absolutely not. I will not work on my ‘chemistry’ with some random guy across the hall,” he replies, softening as to not make his already pouty friend turn more sour.</p>
<p>“Why don’t we order some ramen before I have to turn in for the evening,” Kuroo suggests, unlocking his phone to scroll through the food delivery app that he’s used all too much during this move. </p>
<p>“Fine, but you owe me for all the help today bro, these muscles don’t come cheap,” Bokuto decrees proudly, smile flashing and eyes wrinkling with the edges of laughter lacing his exhales. </p>
<p>Kuroo looks him dead in the eye, lifts his eyebrows as if to say ‘are you serious right now?,’ before joining in the laughter. Even in a new place, he’s happy to have a best friend like Bo to keep him company – to make it feel like home. </p>
<p>By the time the ramen is ordered and consumed, Kuroo is already getting tired, eyes following the moon as it rises in the distance outside of his living room window. Bokuto offers to help clean up, but Kuroo pushes him home. He’s done more than enough for him today – even as boxes lay haphazardly around the room, at least he’s got a bed, couch, and the kitchen set up.</p>
<p>For now he just needs to prepare for tomorrow’s interview. So he settles deeper into his couch, scrolling through articles like ‘Top Questions in Forensic Scientist Interviews,’ ‘Forensic Scientist Salary,’ and the station’s reviews. All of the articles and information stare back at him in the dark, the LED screen practically blinding him as the rest of night continues to fall over the city. But even that light making him squint isn’t enough to keep him awake, not as the corner of the couch gets warmer and the days work lingers in his body. And as he falls asleep, he’s distinctly aware of one thing he’d done right – which was to turn on an alarm – and with that confidence he lets his new life begin with a poorly decorated apartment, a stomach full of ramen, and a new job (hopefully) ahead of him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Early lavender light eases it’s way into his apartment. It greets him gently, softening the corners of his eyes as an adamant alarm grates his ears. Groaning he stretches deeper into the corner of the couch, neck strained and back sore.<p>“Great way to start the morning right before an interview,” he mumbles to himself, voice crackling with sleep. </p>
<p>Standing up he pads into the kitchen, letting that soft light warm him up as he turns on the coffee maker. The time on the microwave above him flashes 6:45 am, blinking as if eager to shout its timeline for the day. With the interview at 8:30, and the office right down the street, he’s not worried. He eases his way through the apartment towards his closet – picking an outfit that says he’s serious but comfortable to be around. Hanging the black slacks on his bathroom door, he lays the heathered blue button down on top of it, hoping that the steam from the shower will remove the last remaining wrinkles that followed the clothes in the move. He smoothes the soft cashmere of his maroon sweater on the bed, the color popping beautifully against his still-made sheets. </p>
<p>Stepping into the bathroom, Kuroo lets the cold tile floor wake him up even more, and looking in the mirror, he knows he’s definitely going to need as much help waking up as he can get. His eyes look tired, the bags under them surely a result of sleeping on the couch all night. He turns the shower on all the way up to hot, hoping that some scalding water will help as much as the coffee that’s probably steaming in the pot in the kitchen. </p>
<p>Giving it a few minutes for the mirror to fog up, he tiptoes into the shower, the hot water making him extra cautious as his body adjusts to the heat. But he gets used to it quickly, happy that his new place seems to have good water pressure, and comfortable temperature control. He’s mid-shampoo when there’s a loud knock in the pipes, as if the building itself is waking up, too. But what follows is a deluge of frigid water, causing him to squeak and remove himself from the spray. With a shiver he reaches out with his hand, only to find his fingertips doused with still cold water. If he gives it a couple of minutes, maybe the warm water will come back he thinks. </p>
<p>Wrong. </p>
<p>By this time the water’s still cold, and much too frigid for anyone to be comfortable showering in it. And as time continues to pass, the nerves in his stomach grow like icicles stabbing his confidence, mirroring the cold he’s attempting to subject himself too. But then he remembers. Someone lives across the hall, someone who Bokuto said was cute, but there’s more pressing things than hoping he doesn’t scare his apparently cute neighbor as he comes to a decision. </p>
<p>Turning the shower off, he wraps a towel around his waist and cautiously steps out of the shower onto the tile floor – the same floor that seems much warmer now, considering the ice cold water dripping down his body. With a shiver that he isn’t sure is from nerves, this decision, or the cold, he gently jogs through his apartment as water falls behind him, leaving a trail that a forensic scientist would definitely pay attention too – and honestly they may need one depending on how his neighbor is going to react. So with the remaining bit of confidence he has, he steps through the threshold of his place, takes a few big strides and knocks. Gently at first, but knocks all the same – knocks at 7 in the morning, which probably can’t be considered gentle in any case. </p>
<p>At first there’s no answer, the only sounds in the hallway coming from the water dripping off his legs onto the hard floor below his feet, and the streets outside beginning to fill with commuters. He lifts his hand again, and inhales deeply, promising to himself that he’ll knock one more time before submitting to the arctic that awaits him in his place. As his arm is already arching through the empty space between him and the door, it’s pulled back, and the most beautiful man stands before him – and he looks angry. The soft cardigan that hangs off his shoulders directly contrasts his expression, the knit tan fabric only helping to exaggerate the sea colored eyes that peer at him from behind metal rimmed glasses. </p>
<p>“Hi, my name’s –” Kuroo starts, but the man tilts his head the tiniest bit and the morning light flashes off his glasses, blinding Kuroo, just briefly.</p>
<p>And with a voice that sounds like it holds the warmth of a latte, the man replies. “Your name is…,” he presses gently, probably wondering why a stranger in a towel is requesting his presence so early. Kuroo lets his hazel eyes readjust to the room, to the man in front of him. </p>
<p>“Uhm, okay, hi. My name is Kuroo, I just moved in yesterday,” he explains, but is cut off with a sharp exhale, the tone reminiscent of how an espresso feels going down the throat.</p>
<p>“I heard.”</p>
<p>“Ahh, sorry, you probably heard my loud friend. He’s great once you get to know him, I promise,” Kuroo offers, water still dripping off of him onto the floor. Goosebumps rise on his skin against the stagnant air around them, the tension of the situation creeping down his spine. He really should get to the point, the cold air in the hallway isn't helping him as far as first impressions go considering he’s starting to shiver.</p>
<p>“Okay, look. I have a job interview this morning and my shower has lovingly decided to welcome me to the building with water that feels like it was flown over straight from the Arctic,” Kuroo begins to clarify, watching the smallest bit of distrust grow in the man’s expression. </p>
<p>“And, Kuroo?” And now he’s having to adjust to the tone that sounds like a cappuccino, like the man’s cardigan has come to life in his voice. </p>
<p>“And I was wondering if I could use your shower…” Kuroo sighs as the request lays out in the open between them, watching those teal eyes scan him as if he’s a crime scene that needs to be figured out. And just as soon as Kuroo is going to give up, he watches as the corners of the man’s mouth twitch upward just slightly. </p>
<p>“Yes, you may use my shower.” </p>
<p>Kuroo’s responding smile hurts his face, but he can’t help it; it feels like he’s just started to crack a new code, to integrate himself into a moment. And the moment is the man in front of him, moving slightly away from his door to allow Kuroo access. </p>
<p>“Our layouts should be similar, so I’m sure you can find the shower,” the man calls behind Kuroo as he tip-toes through the meticulously clean apartment. He’d like to look at the bookshelves, sit on the couch in the corner, touch the plants that sit under the morning light against the window. Maybe another time, he thinks – no, hopes. And Bokuto’s words come back to him as he drips his way into the just as clean bathroom. </p>
<p>
  <i> Work on your chemistry with the cute guy across the hall. </i>
</p>
<p>At least one part of the statement is true – well half true. The guy across the hall is cute, and then some. More adult in appearance and mannerisms than anyone else he’s met that seems close to their age. Even the well organized bathroom proves the man is intelligent, responsible and mature. </p>
<p>The stream of water peppers his skin with a mocking heat, each drop of water hitting him as if laughing at the situation he’s in. But the sound of a teapot boiling sings through the air of the unfamiliar apartment, sending a comforting warmth through Kuroo as he steps out of the shower. In the panicked haze of needing to find somewhere to get the shampoo out of his hair before his interview, he had forgotten to grab his clothes. He’s standing cold in the already damp towel he arrived in, the fabric clinging closer to his body as he attempts to dry off before dripping all over the clean bathroom floor. </p>
<p>“You may use the towel on the rack,” a gentle but somehow stern voice calls out. Clearly the man is astute, having picked up on Kuroo’s lack of preparation for this whole ordeal. But the worst thing of all, he realizes, is that he doesn’t even know the man’s name. He introduced himself as the neighbor across the hall, ‘Kuroo’ he had said, all cheery despite being dripping wet, and here he stands in pretty much a stranger’s bathroom. </p>
<p>With his own damp towel still wrapped around his lower half, he wraps the fresh towel around his shoulders like a cape, huddling under it for any extra warmth and also comfort now that the full weight of the situation is hitting. </p>
<p>Padding out towards the kitchen he sees the man prepping tea from a nicely organized tea box that sits next to him on the counter. And his tan knit cardigan serves as a beautiful contrast to his black hair, the whole apartment seeming to have that natural kind of warmth with all the earthen tones and fresh plants. </p>
<p>“The apartments do that sometimes, it’s an old building. Seems unfortunate that you’d get it on your first morning in your new place,” he says, still with his back to Kuroo as he stirs some honey into his tea. There’s a separate mug next to him, unfilled, but still looking as if an offer sits within the handle. </p>
<p>Kuroo’s trying to figure out a way to ask the man his name, but he continues. “If you’d like some tea, you should probably go get changed first. You’ll catch a cold in just those towels.” </p>
<p>So not only is he intelligent, he’s also caring – but in that to-the-point kind of way, all facts and common sense. <i>Hmm, noted,</i> Kuroo thinks, and with a quick agreement he helps the metal door close behind him gently on his way out. The hallway lacks everything that the man’s apartment has, the cold morning air sticking to his skin as if it wants to borrow the warmth he just got to witness. And stepping in quickly to his own place, he finds it similar to the hallway, no decorations, no touch of home. He’d need to work on that before his neighbor ever came over. </p>
<p>
  <i>If his neighbor ever came over, huh. Interesting thought to have there, Kuroo.</i> He shakes his head of the inviting thought; he can’t jump too far when he doesn’t even know the man’s name. But still, Bokuto’s voice remains in his head, the pressure to act on the chemistry he’d felt just upon looking at the man is definitely something he wants to submit to. But not right now – not yet at least. 
</p>
<p>
Looking at the clock he finds he still has plenty of time to get ready for the interview, the use of the shower next door saving him from having to suffer through minutes of pleading with the cold water to turn warm again. Just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his outfit, a light knock comes from his kitchen, the sound barely traveling back into his room. He almost mistakes it for another ancient pipe, but then there’s another, this time a little harder. 
</p>
<p>
Striding over to the door, he’s still pulling his sweater over his head as he answers. Behind it stands his neighbor, still looking at him as calculating as ever, the cerulean eyes moving slowly, gauging something – Kuroo doesn’t know what. He’s holding a mug in his hand, the tea inside still steaming against the cold air of the hallway.
</p>
<p>
“Ahh come on in. Luckily my heating still works,” Kuroo mentions, gesturing to the air system above them. As the man walks in Kuroo mentally facepalms. His apartment is a mess – lukewarm coffee sits on one counter, boxes are strewn about the rest, the couch has a messy unfolded blanket thrown across it and there’s still water from his earlier escapades evident all over the floor.
</p>
<p>
“Sorry about the mess, I haven’t had a chance to get completely settled,” Kuroo mumbles hoping that he’s not coming across as completely immature and unprepared.
</p>
<p>
As the man in front of him turns slowly, eyes scanning the room quietly, the morning sun bathes his hair in a warm glow. A moment that Kuroo wishes he had his camera on him. More often than not his photos have been of crime scenes, and maybe this is like one too – the way he’s stealing his breath surely feels like it. 
</p>
<p>
“You moved in the day before an interview?” And then those teal eyes are on his hazel, searching, questioning, judging?
</p>
<p>
“It’s the best I could manage. None of my other friends were around to help,” Kuroo explains, and the man just nods, setting the steaming mug of tea on the kitchen counter.
</p>
<p>
“I’ll wash your towel and get it back to you right away. And, uhm, I owe you one for the shower,” Kuroo insists as he plays with the damp hair on the back of his neck. The nerves in his stomach are most definitely from the man, not the impending interview. Which, speaking of —
</p>
<p>
The time on his microwave flashes 7:45, this time much louder than how quietly it had announced the day in his kitchen this morning, the flashing seeming to be much more urgent. The sounds of multiple cars outside isn’t a good sign either. Something he hadn’t accounted for – the potential for traffic.
</p>
<p>
“Oh god, I actually need to get going,” Kuroo cautions, reaching for his briefcase by the couch.
</p>
<p>
“The tea is for you,” the man says, head tilting towards the counter as he continues to watch Kuroo move through his apartment.
</p>
<p>
“Oh, that was really nice of you. Again, wow. I’ll take it in one of my to-go cups...to-go cups...if you were a to-go cup, where would you be,” Kuroo hums to the room, and he thinks he hears a light chuckle coming from the man nearing his apartment door.
</p>
<p>
“No problem, and good luck on your interview. What is it for, Kuroo?” The sea eyes gaze back at him briefly, seeming to know that Kuroo’s ready to leave, the to-go cup warming his hand just as much as the mystery man in front of him. 
</p>
<p>
Following him out into the hallway he answers. “A Forensic Scientist position for the station down the street.”
</p>
<p>
“Hmm, interesting. So do you work with detectives, Kuroo?” The man questions, pointedly, a sly smile playing at his tight lips. 
</p>
<p>
“Yes! Actually, that’s one of my favorite things to do,” Kuroo exclaims, face lighting up with the smile that he’s been graced with. 
</p>
<p>
“That’s interesting, considering you haven’t even asked me my name. Seems like your investigative skills need some work, Kuroo,” he smirks, but his eyes soften and the bright morning exhales a stream of light against the man’s shoulders – silhouetting this apparently sassy man with an ethereal glow. 
</p>
<p>
“Oh wow, alright then. So, mystery man who saved my ass this morning by letting me use your shower, may I have the honor of knowing your name?” Kuroo laughs, hands resting on his hips to match the attitude.
</p>
<p>
“No.” The man laughs, hard, the sound (one Kuroo would rather the bricks not soak up) falling in the air between them. 
</p>
<p>
“As much as I’d love to stay and form some kind of hypothesis on you, I do have to go. But, mystery man, what’s your fa–,” Kuroo starts, but the man cuts him off as his laughter fades to the background. 
</p>
<p>
“It’s Akaashi. My name.” And it fits him perfectly. The name is beautiful, sharp, warm; it feels teal, like the eyes that have him held in place. Like a hidden bay on a lake, and Kuroo’s finally been given access to <i>some</i> of it’s secrets.
</p>
<p>
“Akaashi,” Kuroo sighs, the name falling off of his tongue with ease. “What’s your favorite food? I owe you for this morning, so let me treat you to dinner tonight?”
</p>
<p>
“Nanohana with Karashi dressing,” he replies, and the way Akaashi answers while simultaneously messing with the edge of his cardigan makes Kuroo smile. He is definitely cute, and his nerves and blush on his cheeks are crystal clear at the implication of dinner together.
</p>
<p>
“Okay, tonight. I’ll have my apartment cleaned and ready to go. See you at eight?” Kuroo questions, eyebrows raised in anticipation.
</p>
<p>
“See you then,” Akaashi responds, watching as Kuroo turns away to make his way down the steps. 
</p>
<p>
It’s not until Kuroo’s in his car, settled into the silence of still air in the parking garage, that his heart starts to race. It’s not from the impending interview, and it’s not from practically running down the remaining stairs once he was out of Akaashi’s view. But it is from Akaashi, the way the light hit him still flashing behind Kuroo’s eyes every time he blinks. And when he brings the warm tea up to his lips, he smiles as his heart melts at the flavor. Black tea, with a splash of milk, and a dash of cinnamon. It’s home in a cup, something he’d definitely like to taste more of.
</p>
<p>
So he drives off to his interview, confident and hopeful with the warmth that’s spreading through his body, wrapping him in a comfort akin to the knit cardigan that laid on Akaashi’s shoulders.
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>He’d honestly like to say his luck has turned around for the day after this morning’s incident with the shower, but right now he’s practically knee deep in paperwork, the station having hired him on the spot as soon as the interview was over. Which is great, really – he has a job now. But after he’d announced plans for dinner at his place this evening he was hoping he’d have time to go clean up like he’d promised.<p>He’s sure Akaashi’s first impression of him isn’t great all things considered, and he’d really like his neighbor to know that he’s not some guy that shows up practically naked at strangers doors all the time, or the type to not have meals that he’s promised ready. But by the time he’s finished with all of the government confidentiality papers, it’s already 5:00 pm, the day turned into a full day's work, causing his hours to be much more slim to get his apartment in order. He had all these grand plans to go grocery shopping for cooking, to unpack the boxes in his apartment, maybe actually put some decorations up on the walls, but now the best he can manage is going to be making his home comfortable at best and probably finding a well rated restaurant close by that has the food Akaashi wants. </p>
<p>He shoots a text off to Bokuto, hoping his friend can help him despite the short notice. But gets a quick “can’t bro, sorry, volleyball practice,” in return, so tonight’s challenges are left entirely up to him. And by the time he gets back to his apartment it’s practically 6 pm, the damn traffic of the city choking up the streets as much as his nerves are for this evening. But he does what he can, chucking his maroon sweater over to his still neatly made bed (at least one thing looks put together), and rolls up the sleeves of his button down to get to work. </p>
<p>Light music plays through the speaker he was able to unearth amidst the array of boxes strewn about his living room, the lofi helping to calm him as the evening begins to lay across his apartment. And quicker than he thought, most of the boxes are unpacked, with several items sitting on whatever free space possible, like the story of his life has been haphazardly laid out in the room just with misplaced timelines. </p>
<p>There’s a light knock on the door and Kuroo runs over in hopes it’s Bokuto, eager to have any extra help before 8:00 pm rolls around. Opening the door swiftly, he starts to thank the gods that help has arrived, but there on the opposing threshold stands Akaashi, all teal eyes and sharp lines. His glasses reflect a bit of the fading sun as his hand returns to his side after knocking, and with the slightest tilt of his head Kuroo watches that beautiful teal turn a more cutting blue.</p>
<p>“Did you forget, Kuroo?” Akaashi asks, pointed and judging, putting Kuroo on the spot more than his interview had. </p>
<p>“Oh my god, no I – what time is it?” Kuroo asks, looking frantically behind him into his apartment as delicate music still plays in the background despite the tension between the two men. Kuroo sees his phone on the counter, screen black and mindlessly going about the task he’d set it too.</p>
<p>“It’s exactly eight, Kuroo,” Akaashi explains, his eyes meeting Kuroo’s again as he turns to face the man still outside of his apartment. </p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, I let the day get away from me – I mean, if I’m being honest the day kind of took me by the throat and put me on my ass. I had this huge plan, my plac–” Kuroo starts, rambling on to clarify the reason he’s so out of it, but Akaashi cuts him off with the smallest gentle smile playing at his lips – lips Kuroo should probably stop staring at. </p>
<p>“Kuroo, I’m messing with you, it’s okay. I mean, I’d be really impressed if you’d be that put together on your first full day in the city. But, I did see your place this morning, and really it seemed impossible to have everything cleaned up and ready to go – assuming that was your plan?” Akaashi questions, the dark edges of his hair brushing up against the same cardigan from this morning, and Kuroo’s staring again. </p>
<p>“Wow uhm, yeah,” Kuroo laughs and Akaashi’s smile grows. “You sure you’re not a detective, Akaashi?” </p>
<p>“That I am very much not, but my job does require me to find out information – so I guess it’s kind of similar,” He responds, his smile fading as he seems to visually dive into his thoughts as his brows furrow behind his glasses. </p>
<p>“Well, if you’d like to come in, I’d love to hear more about what you do?” Kuroo offers, arm extending into his living room as he side-steps his door frame to let Akaashi in. </p>
<p>Akaashi walks gently past him, the faint smell of black tea, old books, and earth following him and wrapping Kuroo in the same home-like feeling he’d felt this morning. He settles by the kitchen and sets a dark bottle on Kuroo’s very messy countertop. </p>
<p>“I brought over some wine that goes really well with the food I mentioned earlier, but, honestly wine is wine and it’s always good in my opinion,” Akaashi claims, back still to Kuroo as he looks around the apartment, much like he had this morning. </p>
<p>“It does look better in here then it did this morning, Kuroo, but let’s be honest,” he begins, looking over his shoulder and holding Kuroo still by the door. “I’ve already seen pretty much all of you, you don’t have to try to impress me after what I saw this morning.” </p>
<p>Kuroo briefly thinks maybe he should call the station, tell them to send a team to investigate the death that just occured in his own apartment – his own of course. He can feel heat rising up into his cheeks, can feel those eyes on his every move and reaction to gauge how he took the comment. He honestly didn’t think Akaashi had it in him, not with all the softness he seems to portray despite his sharp eyes. <i>Is this the chemistry I need to work on?</i> </p>
<p>So Kuroo tests it, stepping closer and watching as Akaashi’s eyes widen, just briefly, before he smiles at the challenge. </p>
<p>“Would you like me to come back for tomorrow’s shower too?” Kuroo teases playfully. And the eyes turn almost molten, like blue flame rests behind them – but it quickly flickers out and the moment’s gone before it had a chance to really begin. </p>
<p>“We’ll see,” Akaashi mumbles, turning back to the messy counter and fiddling with the bottle of wine. Kuroo hums in response, stepping to the other side of the counter to face him again before he rolls open a drawer to toss Akaashi a bottle opener. </p>
<p>He can feel Akaashi’s eyes on him, still investigating him. Searching, but searching for what? Kuroo has no idea, but he’d like to find out. </p>
<p>“So, Mr. Detective-who’s-not-really-a-detective, want to tell me what you do? Or are you hoping I figure it out?” Kuroo asks, letting the words fall between them as he opens a cabinet to grab some wine glasses. </p>
<p>“I’m a writer,” Akaashi declares, and Kuroo briefly stutters as he sets the glasses down, his mind trying to process if he’s seen his name on any bookshelves. </p>
<p>He looks up to Akaashi as he pours their wine, expectant and desperate to know what kind of books he writes – hoping really, to do his own investigating into the kind of person Akaashi really is. </p>
<p>“For the newspaper, Kuroo,” Akaashi clarifies, and the way he says it like a disappointment throws Kuroo off guard. Sure, at first he’d expected a published book writer, but writing for the newspaper must be difficult too. He can’t imagine having to find stories daily to publish for the people of the city. </p>
<p>Without realizing it before it’s too late, his hand is on Akaashi’s wrist, leaning over the counter like a tether between the two men. Akaashi doesn’t pull away, he just stops pouring the wine, setting the bottle down despite the hand that’s wrapped around his wrist. Kuroo doesn’t pull it away either, not yet. </p>
<p>“Why are you saying it like it’s something to be disappointed about?” </p>
<p>He watches Akaashi’s eyes look at the wine again, eyebrows raising just briefly as if to indicate it’s a long story that requires a drink to help it go down. </p>
<p>“You had the same look in your eyes that my parents did when I told them I was going to be a writer. All sparkly eyes that seem to expect something great,” Akaashi sighs, lifting his drink to his mouth as he lets Kuroo’s hand fall away. </p>
<p>Kuroo grabs for his drink swiftly, extending it in the space between them. “Who says I don’t think you’re great, Akaashi?” </p>
<p>Akaashi pulls the glass from his lips as he looks to the glass outstretched before him, and then he looks past it, right into Kuroo’s eyes – more like right into his soul really. </p>
<p>“You don’t even know me, Kuroo,” Akaashi claims as he lightly taps Kuroo’s glass. </p>
<p>
  <i>Chemistry, Kuroo.</i>
</p>
<p>“Sure, but I’d like to get to know you,” Kuroo offers, raising his own glass to his lips as he looks over the rim to Akaashi. </p>
<p>“Okay. I’d...like that. A lot,” Akaashi responds softly, his confidence seeming to falter under Kuroo’s watchful eyes. </p>
<p>Kuroo pads over to his couch, nodding to Akaashi to join him. But when he sits he almost lets out an audible groan, the day’s exhaustion finally catching up to him as he gets comfortable. </p>
<p>“I meant to ask how the interview went today, but based on how tired you seem I’m almost scared to,” Akaashi laughs, sitting across from Kuroo in the comfiest spot of his couch. </p>
<p>“Oh, no it actually went really well, I guess. I mean, they gave me the job on the spot, which is another reason why I let the day get away from me and why this room still looks like – well, this,” Kuroo responds, gesturing to the room vaguely. </p>
<p>“I like it in here, even with all your stuff everywhere. It’s almost like a story I could put together,” Akaashi sighs, and Kuroo watches him in awe. He’d had the same thought and now this man just spoke it into existence. </p>
<p>“Well, would you like to try?” Kuroo offers, smiling as wine burns gently down his throat. Akaashi looks at him and then again to the room, a returning smile causing the corners of his mouth to twitch up just slightly. </p>
<p>“Sure, but first I’d like to hear what you think about me based on my place that you so nakedly strode into this morning,” Akaashi dictates, and Kuroo raises his eyebrows in response. </p>
<p>“First of all, Akaashi, I was not naked. I had a towel on. And secondly, fine, but I’m laying down some ground rules. For each observation I give on you that’s correct, you have to guess one about me,” Kuroo challenges and Akaashi sits up and sets his glass down, the wine already gone. </p>
<p>“I’ll go first,” Kuroo starts, but pulls himself off the couch despite the fatigue that weighs him down like an anchor. He steps into his kitchen to grab the bottle, setting it on the coffee table between them as he continues. “You like things to be neat in your life,” Kuroo smirks, knowing this has to be correct. </p>
<p>“I mean sure, but I did just tell you that I like your mess, didn’t I?” Akaashi explains, eyeing the bottle on the table between them with increased interest. </p>
<p>“Touche, but still, I was correct, so please do me the honor,” Kuroo teases, sitting back down on the couch much closer to Akaashi. </p>
<p>“You’re a chemistry nerd,” Akaashi responds flatly, as if it’s just a fact that’s above Kuroo’s head for everyone to know. </p>
<p>“Okay, and how did you know that? Seriously, maybe you should switch careers,” Kuroo stresses. </p>
<p>“You’re a forensic scientist, Kuroo...it’s not that hard to figure out. And,” he starts, pointing towards Kuroo’s kitchen, “you have beakers as decoration in your kitchen.” </p>
<p>“Well played, smarty,” Kuroo chuckles. “But those aren’t for decoration, I like to put my coffee in them. Which reminds me, thanks for the tea this morning, it was delicious.” </p>
<p>“Okay, so you’re definitely a nerd,” Akaashi notes, grabbing the wine off the table to pour himself some more. </p>
<p>“That a problem, Akaashi?” Kuroo questions, leaning closer to Akaashi, hoping the blush on his cheeks isn’t only from the alcohol. </p>
<p>“No, I quite like nerds,” Akaashi responds, drinking much more wine then he probably should’ve, the blush growing as he swallows. </p>
<p>“Mmm, glad to know you have experience. Last time I tried to get with someone I unfortunately didn’t get quite that reaction to that part of me,” Kuroo reveals, but smirks into his glass hoping Akaashi picks up on the poorly placed chemistry joke.</p>
<p>“Ignoring the terrible joke you just made–,” Akaashi sighs, rolling his eyes.</p>
<p>“That was not a terrible joke!!! Chemistry can be fun, you know,” Kuroo laughs, the sound bouncing through the room almost as much as Bokuto’s does. </p>
<p>“Flourine, Uranium, Nitrogen...fun, you going to be doing high school teacher level jokes all night, or should I go get another bottle of wine so I actually find these funny?” Akaashi mocks, his own laugh filling the room at Kuroo’s expense. </p>
<p>“I did really well in chemistry when I was in school,” Akaashi continues. “But anyways, again ignoring these jokes  – what do you mean ‘the last time you tried to get with someone,’ Kuroo?” he pushes, head tilting as it did earlier, as if calculating the trajectory of Kuroo’s answer. </p>
<p>“It means what it sounds like,” Kuroo answers honestly, because not only is his neighbor attractive but he’s fun to be around; the pressure of the day has just continued to fade since he stepped into his apartment. </p>
<p>“Noted,” Akaashi responds as he sinks back into the couch, still not breaking eye contact with Kuroo. </p>
<p>“Are you taking notes to write about me later?” Kuroo teases, following suit as he leans back into the couch’s cushions. </p>
<p>“Whatever will help you sleep at night,” Akaashi teases right back, the smile evident in his voice despite the fact that Kuroo broke eye contact. He can hear it, the lighter voice, the easier conversation; it really is fun and he’s glad Akaashi seems to be having a good time too. </p>
<p>“The wine will help with that,” Kuroo claims, swirling his wine around as he watches the deep red slide inside it’s glass hold.</p>
<p>“Speaking of the wine, Kuroo, are you planning on us just getting drunk tonight?” Akaashi asks, looking towards the kitchen again. </p>
<p><i>Shit, the food.</i> </p>
<p>“Oh my god, Akaashi. I’m seriously such a fuck-up today,” Kuroo exclaims, hiding his face in his palms. “I hope your imagination is good and this morning was really impressive, because it’s about all I have to offer,” Kuroo explains, the sound muffled as it tries to pass through his fingers. </p>
<p>“It’s fine, Kuroo,” Akaashi responds lightly, laughing on the exhale. “Yes, yes, this morning was truly a sight to see so bright and early. Now, while we go look around your kitchen, you’re next up for an observation,” Akaashi proposes, and Kuroo pulls his hands from his face, looking to the smile on Akaashi’s lips and then up to his eyes. </p>
<p>“Akaashi, all I have is top ramen,” Kuroo sighs as he stands, ambling over to his pantry to grab the familiar orange wrapped block of noodles. </p>
<p>“Okay, so clearly you have good taste,” Akaashi responds, standing in Kuroo’s kitchen comfortably, and Kuroo likes how he looks here.</p>
<p>“Hmm, next observation. You stay up really late?” Kuroo questions, hoping the implication of top ramen being in good taste means Akaashi looks to it as a midnight snack just like he usually does. </p>
<p>“You want a prize, Kuroo? I told you I’m a writer for the newspaper – of course I’m up late, almost every night,” Akaashi defends, and Kuroo just raises the top ramen in the air. </p>
<p>“I said that because you also seem to like top ramen and it’s my go-to midnight snack.” </p>
<p>“Okay fine, it’s mine too. Anyways,” Akaashi trails off, and Kuroo watches him as he walks over towards the box of jerseys he had yet to hang. </p>
<p>“You used to play volleyball?” He questions, pulling out Kuroo’s old captain jersey from high school. </p>
<p>“Yeah, emphasis on the ‘used to’ – although the loud friend you heard yesterday is always trying to get me to play with him again,” Kuroo explains, turning back to the water that’s now at a rolling boil on the stove. </p>
<p>“What position did you play?” Akaashi asks, excitement seeming to burst through his hand into the jersey still in his grip. </p>
<p>“Uhh, middle blocker. Did you– have you played?” Kuroo answers, curious as to why he looks so excited.</p>
<p>“I was a setter. I actually went into writing in hopes of being a sports writer,” Akaashi reveals, looking back to the box behind him. </p>
<p>“Wow, I bet you were good. You seem like the calculating type,” Kuroo guesses, confident he’s correct. </p>
<p>“You could say so, sure.” Akaashi’s smile is all the answer Kuroo needs. He can imagine it now; those pale hands setting a perfect ball, those teal eyes calculating the exact angle necessary to get the ball over the net. </p>
<p>Kuroo’s timer dings behind him, breaking the moment now that the three minutes of cooking time are up. He prepares their bowls, and pours more wine – pulling a new bottle from his own collection just in case they continue to talk deeper into the night and need more. </p>
<p>“Thank you for the food, Kuroo.” Akaashi says genuinely, sitting comfortably on one of the bar stools at his kitchen counter, despite Kuroo not giving him what he’d asked for. </p>
<p>“You’re welcome, but I am afraid I still owe you one, considering I didn’t give you what you wanted. So if you’ll have me again, I’d be more than happy to actually take you out,” Kuroo replies, and a deep satisfaction races through his veins, a chemical reaction occurring between his heart and the oxygen flowing through his lungs. </p>
<p>Akaashi looks up to him smoothly, chopsticks already amongst the noodles in his bowl, and smiles. And the smile flows through him, just like earlier this morning – with the refreshing sharpness of coffee, and the slightest hint of creamy adoration. </p>
<p>“I would enjoy that,” Akaashi replies, returning to his dinner but not without a blush trying to peek out from under his glasses. </p>
<p>“Great, I’ll think of something fun. And, I’m sorry I got so excited about you being a setter that I totally skipped over you mentioning that you want to be a sports writer. If you’re not one now, what do you write? If you don’t mind me asking,” Kuroo questions, slurping a noodle up into his mouth as he watches a more sly smile pull at the corners of Akaashi’s mouth. </p>
<p>“Believe it or not, I write the crime report,” Akaashi answers with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as if Kuroo is just supposed to casually accept it like it’s some fact that was telepathically shared between them at some point today. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry – what?” Kuroo mumbles, still fumbling over how this gentle man in front of him, eating a meal he made, is somehow in a field relative to his own. </p>
<p>“You heard me, Kuroo. So I guess you could say that maybe I am good at investigating. I have to find stories for the paper somehow,” Akaashi pushes, keen eyes freezing Kuroo in place as noodles slip off of his chopsticks back into his bowl of ramen. </p>
<p>“Oh my god, okay? And you weren’t gonna tell me?!” Kuroo protests, clacking his chopsticks together in one hand. </p>
<p>“Didn’t feel like necessary information at the time, especially not when you were in such a rush this morning,” Akaashi shrugs again, eyebrows lifting at the memory of this morning’s adventure. </p>
<p>Kuroo looks over to the coffee table by the couch they’d left earlier, and spotting a newspaper amongst all of his junk he tilts his head in that direction. </p>
<p>“Couch, I need to check this out,” Kuroo suggests, striding over there easily with his long legs, despite the protesting groan behind him. </p>
<p>“What, you afraid I won’t like your writing?” Kuroo taunts, and a laugh escapes him, noticing that Akaashi brought the new bottle of wine over here.</p>
<p>“I’m not answering that, Kuroo.” </p>
<p>But Kuroo ignores the insecurity – there can’t possibly be anything more embarrassing or worse than what he’d done this morning. Hell, that could’ve been considered a crime by some. He can see the headline now – “<i>Naked Man Appears at Neighbors Door Demanding Shower</i>.” He chuckles to himself just briefly, enough that Akaashi notices and shrugs a bit more inward into his cardigan, lifting the wine <i>bottle</i> to his lips in place of a glass. </p>
<p>“Not laughing at you. Laughing at something dumb in my head,” Kuroo ensures, watching the tension leave Akaashi’s body out of the corner of his eye, rolling his eyes lightly at the inherent trust that he could think something dumb. </p>
<p>And it’s funny, how comfortable he feels with Akaashi already – as if they’ve been neighbors – no, friends – for a long time. He’s already picking up on Akaashi’s body language, noticing the wrinkling in the corners of his eyes when he finds something particularly funny, or when he’s thinking too much, scrunching his nose behind his glasses. And better yet, the pure excitement he was able to witness earlier when he’d seen Kuroo’s jersey, the edges of his cheeks lifting against the frames of his glasses. </p>
<p>But he quiets those thoughts and flips through the paper, folding the extra pages over one another as he gets to the crime report page. </p>
<p>Of course, the writing is perfect. </p>
<p>It’s concise, it’s informative, it’s everything a person could possibly need to know about what’s occurring in the city around them. And if this is already amazing like this, Kuroo can’t imagine how good his sports writing would be – especially if it’s something he’s passionate about. </p>
<p>“Akaashi, this is–” he starts, shaking his head to get rid of the intruding thoughts of word vomit to tell him how incredible he is. He doesn’t want to scare him off right away, even if he had said yes to another date already. </p>
<p>But the couch cushions push on his comfort, push on the warmth he feels around Akaashi, push on the desire to know how, where, and also who could’ve possibly given him this information.</p>
<p>But those questions fade as Akaashi looks to him with the flush of alcohol.</p>
<p>“This is what, Kuroo?” Akaashi questions, the edges of the words coming out a bit slurred, the wine bottle already somehow closer to halfway gone. </p>
<p>“Okay first of all, no more drinking for you. I’m not trying to carry you back to your place on our first ‘date’ that isn’t really a date?” Kuroo also says with a question, confusing himself with every word. It’s Akaashi’s fault though, so if anything he should write a crime report for setting up a proverbial trap to steal his heart already. Because of course he looks cute even when drunk, his shoulders slumped against the couch, eyes closed with the cardigan huddled up closer to his neck. </p>
<p>“Secondly,” Kuroo starts to explain, but he scoots closer first, reaching out to pull the cardigan away from Akaashi’s face. “Your writing is incredible,” Kuroo states, and when his hand grazes Akaahi’s cheek he shivers at the touch. Akaashi’s eyes open sharply as the ocean waves behind them come to a mirrored glaze. </p>
<p>Kuroo inhales but the breath comes up short, catching in the back of his throat and causing him to choke. He is fully taken by surprise – yet again by this barn owl colored man in his living room. But really, he’s having trouble breathing, and he can only watch behind his panicked eyes as Akaashi realizes this isn’t a joke, scrambling closer to Kuroo to help him catch the breath that got lost within the slight touch of Akaashi’s cheek. <i>Talk about a reaction.</i> </p>
<p>Coughing for air, his lungs finally grab a hold of oxygen again, even though Akaashi seems to be sucking in more of it with matching panicked inhales, visibly sobering up with every breath that flows between them. </p>
<p>“Please, Kuroo. Do not die on me, I don’t want to have to write about your passing in the newspaper,” Akaashi sighs, his breath returning to normal, but not his presence right at Kuroo’s side. He’s still leaning over Kuroo’s face, his hand somehow finding its way to Kuroo’s chest as if to settle the stuttering of his lungs. </p>
<p>“That would imply that a crime happened here, Akaashi,” Kuroo exhales, trying to settle his pounding heart that isn’t racing from the almost near death experience he just had.</p>
<p>“But at least you’d give me something fresh to print for the paper – ‘Man Dies in Apartment Due to Unknown Cause - Suspect May be at Large,’” Akaashi states, hands in the air as if he’s placing the words on a giant piece of paper. </p>
<p>“Oh no no, I think you know the cause, and better yet I know the suspect,” Kuroo states, gazing at Akaashi with the friendly glare of competition. </p>
<p>“I have a question though,” Akaashi says, returning his body to the back of the couch comfortably, a leg crossing over the other as if this is an interview. </p>
<p>“Go for it, <i>Detective</i>,” Kuroo teases with a smirk, blushing at Akaashi’s smile despite the eye roll that followed. </p>
<p>“If you touch me on our second date, that according to you is more like our first date, are you going to choke again?” Akaashi questions, putting Kuroo right on the spot – because of course he’d noticed. The slight brush of their skin had created some zing of electricity that caused a chemical reaction he’d love to write some hypothesis about but doesn’t have the time for. </p>
<p>“So you agree, you’re the suspect,” Kuroo counters, leaning forward from his spot on the couch, almost a hands width away from Akaashi’s comfortable spot. </p>
<p>“I’m not speaking until my lawyer arrives,” Akaashi claims, turning his nose up to the ceiling in defiance – revealing more pink behind those metal frames. </p>
<p>“Because you know what, Akaashi. Say I did die, you know what would be all over me?” Kuroo challenges, continuing only when those eyes return to his. “Your fingerprints.” </p>
<p>“I would hesitate to say all over you,” Akaashi states, arguing Kuroo’s defense like this is a trial. </p>
<p>“Hmm, we could change that. I promise not to die,” Kuroo appeals, closing his eyes as he sinks deeper into the couch, pouting his lips a bit with suggestion. </p>
<p>He feels the slight shift of weight in the cushions, the smell of black tea returning to his senses, and upon opening his eyes he finds the bay staring back – the teal eyes begging him to jump in. Kuroo watches the slightest movement of Akaashi’s hand, lifting slowly in the space between them – his head tilting a bit as if asking for permission. So Kuroo just nods, permission granted. </p>
<p>Akaashi cups his hand under Kuroo’s chin, squeezing a bit as if to bring forth that pout again. His eyes trace a path to Kuroo’s lips, and Kuroo’s mouth is watering – because somehow, watching Akaashi put together all the pieces of this story they’re about to tell is captivating and poetic, just like his writing seems to be despite it being about crime and death. Kuroo leans into the touch, pushing into it, past it – through the barrier of Akaashi’s collarbone and right up against his mouth. </p>
<p>“You know, Akaashi,” he whispers, smirking against the corners of Akaashi’s mouth at the visible shiver that ran down his body, “a forensic scientist’s favorite thing, is fresh prints.” </p>
<p>And he claims the lips on the other side of his words.</p>
<p>Suddenly all the chemicals seem to come together between them, the reaction immediate – electricity, like the first shot of espresso shooting through his veins as he deepens the kiss. He licks his tongue against Akaashi’s mouth for more, he wants to taste more. And Kuroo smiles when Akaashi lets him in, melting into every languid touch of Akaashi’s tongue on his, every slide of Akaashi’s fingers up closer to his hair. </p>
<p>Akaashi breaks the kiss first, coming up for air as if he’s been holding it this whole time. “Oh?” Kuroo questions, hand still tracing little patterns – leaving little paths of evidence on Akaashi’s cheek. </p>
<p>“Alright, we’re even. I guess you take my breath away too,” Akaashi sighs in defeat, his own lips pouting at the admission. </p>
<p>“I never said you took my breath away, Akaashi,” Kuroo confutes, smiling as the man who was just his neighbor literally a day ago – is now so much more. </p>
<p>“You didn’t have to, your body did for you,” Akaashi replies sharply, turning away to bring the wine bottle over to the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Oi, Akaashi, you don’t have to do that right now. If you haven’t already noticed from our little game earlier, my place is still a mess with all my stuff. Plus, I’d rather you not remove or clean anything – I have to write a crime report for the station and nothing can be compromised,” Kuroo laughs, the sound echoing through the walls of his apartment, darkened aside from the light beaming from the kitchen. </p>
<p>Akaashi turns to face him, shaking his head, which Kuroo is sure is because of his awesome jokes. “Oh yeah Mr. Forensic Scientist? Let’s hear what you, the person who isn’t a writer, are going to write in this crime report,” Akaashi begs, one hand resting softly on his hip with attitude. </p>
<p>“Hmm, let’s see,” Kuroo mumbles, pretending to hold an imaginary pen in his hand that he’s tapping against his head. “Suspect left several large fingerprints on the victim's face, including the lips. Extra note – do we call him the kissing killer? No details have been provided on the suspect's whereabouts, but some say he may be at a volleyball court tomorrow if he’ll join the victim again so soon?” Kuroo exhales, all of those poorly placed words that very clearly show he isn’t a writer falling out of his mouth much too fast, hoping that this offer of volleyball is a fun enough date idea like he had promised earlier. </p>
<p>“Kuroo, that report would never make it into the paper,” Akaashi critiques, padding closer to the couch, closer to Kuroo. </p>
<p>Akaashi sets the wine bottle back down on the mess of a coffee table, his words facing up into the living room still left from the pages Kuroo had turned to earlier.</p>
<p>“It’s strictly for station and suspect eyes only,” Kuroo declares as he gazes at Akaashi, pulling on the corner of his cardigan to get him closer. </p>
<p>“And to your request, yes I’d love to join ‘the victim’ for volleyball tomorrow,” Akaashi agrees and Kuroo feels the warmth of a fresh cup of coffee flow through him again. </p>
<p>He reaches for his phone, smiling despite the questioning furrow of Akaashi’s brows who had just agreed to their next ‘date.’ </p>
<p>“Look we did this a little backwards,” Kuroo argues, tapping away at his phone swiftly before offering it up in the small space between them. “Can I have your number?” </p>
<p>And Akaashi’s responding laugh is so sweet and so calm, quiet and relaxing. “Oh, I thought I was going to have to write you telegrams on my old typewriter,” Akaashi teases, and Kuroo responds with a laugh as well – a booming one escaping his already tired lungs at the confusion in Akaashi’s expression after grabbing his phone. </p>
<p>“What the hell is ‘CoFe2’ and why is it my contact name, Kuroo?” Akaashi mumbles, adjusting the glasses on his nose with the LED reflecting back to Kuroo. </p>
<p>“Ah, that’s what chemists call coffee as a joke,” Kuroo replies, offering up an explanation at Akaashi’s increasingly confused brow. “Ever since this morning I thought of you like a fresh cup of coffee, a cappuccino, an espresso. Probably weird, I know.”</p>
<p>Akaashi looks up to him, past the phone in his hands that still haven’t typed in a number and the LED light only illuminates the growing blush on his cheeks. “That’s actually really sweet – despite me being a tea guy, I guess I’ll let it slide since it’s you,” Akaashi appeases, moving closer and causing electricity to run up Kuroo’s leg at their knees that are now brushing. </p>
<p>But as Akaashi’s typing, Kuroo’s phone audibly vibrates between his palms. </p>
<p>“Who is BokuBro?” Akaashi laughs, shaking his head probably once again at his expense for stupid nicknames and jokes. </p>
<p>“Ahh, that’s the loud friend you heard yesterday. Ignore that, keep giving me your number,” Kuroo chuckles, grazing his fingertips on Akaashi’s knee lazily. </p>
<p>Akaashi hands the phone back over to him, yawning as he lets the phone drop into Kuroo’s palm. As was this morning, the time in the kitchen mutedly whispers across the room, this time less enthusiastic than it had been this morning, the late evening sprawling into early day. </p>
<p>“I shou–,”</p>
<p>“You shou–,” they both start at the same time, laughing in the breath immediately after. </p>
<p>But Akaashi speaks first after their joy passes through Kuroo’s living room, they’re both resigning to the day and exhaustion that is laying on them – despite the slight tinge of Akaashi flavored caffeine in his bloodstream. </p>
<p>“I should go, since it’s getting so late and we both have work tomorrow,” Akaashi mumbles, his expression seeming downtrodden at the loss of time between them.</p>
<p>But Kuroo wants to fix that, happy to bring that beautiful smile right back to his face. “Today, you mean today.” </p>
<p>And Akaashi smiles, gives a gentle nod, and Kuroo catches his chin swiftly as he stands, planting one last kiss for the night – no, first kiss for the day, before Akaashi slips into his own place. </p>
<p>They amble over to Kuroo’s door, once again left standing in the hallway they met just hours ago. </p>
<p>“Goodnight, Kuroo,” Akaashi whispers into the muted bricks around them. </p>
<p>“Goodnight, Akaashi,” Kuroo responds, closing his door quietly once he sees Akaashi disappear behind his own. </p>
<p>But then the adrenaline returns, the excitement of this new thing, of Akaashi, causing him to basically squeal as he walks towards his bed. And with a gentle plop he settles into the comforter, grabbing his phone to check his text from Bokuto.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>BokuBro [12:24 am]:</b> you still need my help?<br/>
<b>Kuroo [12:36 am]:</b> no, you owl head. It’s midnight!<br/>
<b>BokuBro [12:38 am]:</b> this has never stopped us from hanging out before<br/>
<b>Kuroo [12:40 am]:</b> true. Also, change my contact name to bill nye the science guy<br/>
<b>BokuBro [12:41 am]:</b> oh shit! You get the job?<br/>
<b>BokuBro [12:45 am]:</b> Kuroo?<br/>
<b>BokuBro [12:57 am]:</b> sorry god, Bill Nye?!<br/>
<b>Kuroo [1:02 am]:</b> yea but that’s not what this is about<br/>
<b>BokuBro [1:05 am]:</b> what else could it be about…<br/>
<b>BokuBro [1:11 am]:</b> Bill?</p>
<p>But Kuroo smiles to himself in bed, practically beams at the next text that comes in.</p>
<p><b>BokuBro [1:18 am]:</b> THE NEIGHBOR?!?!?!?</p>
<p>And he knows he’s torturing his friend in not answering him right away, but he’ll respond tomorrow, no – today. So he sets his phone down on his night stand, smiling at the evidence of Akaashi and his time together still on the coffee table with wine bottles and newspapers telling a story to the room. And as Kuroo begins to slip into sleep under a new city’s darkness, he still thinks about the fingerprints left on his skin, and he wonders, just briefly, if Akaashi will write about them too. </p>
<p>But above all, he falls asleep hoping that his shower doesn’t work today.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Have I laughed about Bokuto calling Kuroo "Bill," this whole week, yes. </p>
<p>This was such a fun AU to write, thank you again Greeny!!! I love this couple so much now haha!!</p>
<p>Big shoutout to my lovely beta writers as always the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleguchi/works">beautiful, Deen!</a> and my <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticFriendly/pseuds/ChaoticFriendly">partner in chaos, Jenna</a></p>
<p>Love you both so much!!</p>
<p>If you would like to come chat/hangout with me on twitter, you can find me here! <a href="https://twitter.com/fireheart_aw">@fireheart_aw</a></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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